


The Beasts Within

by uga_irish



Category: Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Animal Transformation, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Nashville Predators, Phoenix Coyotes, Rough Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uga_irish/pseuds/uga_irish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for Hockey Rare Pairs back in the day. The story is told through Pekka's first person perspective.</p>
<p>Mike Smith and Pekka Rinne both live according to the teams for which they play. Pekka can transform into a sabretooth tiger, while Mike Smith can change into a coyote. Pekka needs to vent and rid himself of frustration after losing to the Coyotes in the Western Conference Semifinals. Mike Smith offers to help. Things happen in between the two. Oh, and Ray Whitney is a wizard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beasts Within

The series was over; the season was finished, all I wanted to do was get away; but first, there was the business of walking the handshake line and suppressing the vomit building in the back of my throat. 

As I reached the end of the line, the Phoenix goalie, Mike Smith was waiting for me. When we patted each other on the shoulder and touched foreheads, my body shook. I looked to his face, and his eyes had turned a pale yellow. I took a whiff of his sweat-dripped mane. Mane? His hair, I mean his hair.

I let out a short sound and Smitty broke a slight grin. He leaned towards my ear and whispered, “You have my scent. Find me later.” My eyes glared, I nodded, and I finished with the line.

I went through the monotonous process of the postgame press conferences and interviews. The whole thing was a blur and a gigantic drag. The season is now over for me. How do they think it feels? Reporters are so stupid here in the States. In Finland, they don’t ask the stupid questions. Very few questions asked overall. 

It was not until the questions changed that my mood shifted. No longer was I the exhausted, anguishing, disappointed goalie for the Nashville Predators. Now, I was an angry teammate. Now, I had to work to suppress the beast inside of me. Damn, Sergei and Alexander, those fools! They were huge distractions! They ruined golden opportunity for our team by being selfish fools!

I dismissed the reporters as quickly as I could and took a boiling hot shower. The hot water beat down on my sore back. I then sat down in shower and closed my eyes. The steam wafted from the tile floor and surrounded my aching body. Breathing in the vapors cooled my boiling blood in shower. Then, I thought about my opposing goaltender for the previous couple of weeks and our encounter in the handshake line. My body shook again, as chills ran through my body with those thoughts.

I stood back up, turned off the shower, and dried off. I had his scent; I had to find him. I put on my loose sweats for the sake of my human form and left the arena in Phoenix. The team was flying back to Nashville tonight, but I spoke to Barry about staying behind for a day, citing my body not ready for another flight. He understood. All my equipment went back, but I stayed in the desert. 

When I exited the arena and stepped into an almost barren parking lot, the first thing that stood out was the heat from the desert. The heat was trapped in my sweats, as I walked over the hot asphalt. I stopped on the pavement and looked up to the high night sky and stared at the moon, a crescent moon. The light shone down from the moon, accompanied by bright stars. They looked so nice and peaceful.

Then, there was the howl. How could I know if it was him? I had to go to find out for myself. I went back to walking through the lot, out the gate past the guard, and started across the Great Lawn towards the ridges outside of Glendale. The howl sounded again and my walk quickened. This time though, the howl was followed by a yelp and a bullet. 

I did not remember transforming, but I know I did. I took off towards the bullet sound, which had shattered the calm setting. My white coat was covered in sand as I ran towards the scent. I smelled the scent. It was getting stronger. I was getting closer. There was another smell, which did not belong to Mike. I ran faster. Mike’s scent was stronger, there was a light whimper. I ran faster.

I came upon the foreign scent; a man holding a smoking gun. I did not hesitate; I attacked him and ripped him to shreds. My dirty hairs were now splattered with red spots of blood. I turned my attention to Mike, who was in coyote form. His foot was in a trap and a bullet wound was in his shoulder. I transformed back into human form to spring the trap open. 

When the trap opened, Mike fell into my shoulder. His eyes were the mustard color they had been when we embraced at the end of the hockey game. I whispered in his ear, “Can you change back?” He growled. 

I scratched him behind the ear. What else do you do to a dog you are trying to comfort? He let out a long, wailing howl. Within a second, there was a flash and Ray Whitney standing next to me. Ray put his hand on my shoulder and the other on Mike and said something weird. In a flash, we were no longer outside, but in a kitchen. 

Ray turned to me and ordered, “Put Mike on the counter, please.” I followed his orders. Ray then placed his hand on the wound on Mike’s ankle from the trap and said some words in a chant. The wound began to disappear. He did the same thing to Mike’s shoulder and patted him on the top of the head.

Mike then transformed from the coyote to his human form. I helped him off the counter and he said with a smile, “I guess we’re not enemies anymore.” I simply nodded. When I think about it now, I do not know why I acted the way I did for someone I hardly knew. Was I that desperate? Was I that despondent?

Ray then butted in, “Well, that’s enough action for me tonight. There is a spare bedroom in the basement. Don’t be too messy.”

I nodded in thanks and picked up Mike and took him downstairs into the spare room. The room had a big bed. I mean, this bed was huge. It almost seemed like it was built for two big goalies. I placed Mike on the bed. He chirped back, “For a tiger, you’re a big softy.” 

I snarled, “Saying I don’t have a killer instinct?”

Mike tugged me onto the bed, “Oh, I know you do. Thanks for that.” 

And then he kissed me. I was caught by surprise and he used this to swing on top of my body. “What are you doing?” I asked weakly. 

Mike’s eyes were yellow again, as he nuzzled into my neck. “You smell like blood, hockey, sweat, Wizard, and me.” 

I was confused. This was not bedroom conversation. So, I kissed him back and began wrestling for more control. He pinned my shoulders down to the bed, “Come on, you gotta be stronger than that.”

I roared and flipped him. He stared into my eyes, “Wow, your eyes are like ice, kitty.” 

I grasped his shoulders and bit down into his shoulder blade. It was his turn to growl and claw at my shoulders. We battled for supremacy. Dog versus cat. 

I won. Actually, it was an easy win, because I grabbed at his crotch and twisted my hand. He practically jumped off the bed. I chuckled as I now nuzzled into near his nipples and licked. His body shook violently on the bed. “You like?”

His tongue dangled out of the right side of his mouth. His eyes were a brighter yellow. His face was turning red, as he forced out, “Yeaaahh, I like.” 

My mouth kept working at his nipple, as my hand stroked his ever-growing dick. Jeesh, it was a pretty long stick. I twisted my wrist again, and he growled. Ray’s voice could be heard from...well...somewhere, “Keep it down, down there! I’m trying to sleep.”

I picked my mouth off Mike’s nipple, “You’re too loud. Be quiet.” He growled in a lower sound. I stopped twisting his cock; instead, I started tracing my fingers on the bottom of his cock, tickling his balls in the process. He began to leak.

Mike pulled my hair and whispered, “Suck me.” I obliged. 

I slid my head down to his crotch. I reached my fingers around to his ass, playing ever so gently around his hole. I put my mouth to his cock and began sucking. He tugged my hair...hard. 

I sucked faster. I used my tongue to trace his slit. I sucked some more. My fingers started to go deeper in his ass. He pulled my hair even harder. He was growling, babbling, growling, babbling, growling. Then he managed to mutter, “Gonnaaaaaa...”

I sucked him down through the entire orgasm. I then kept sucking, making sure I got down every last drop. When he stopped shaking and his breathing slowed, I pulled off. 

I scooted next to him on the bed and wrapped my arm around him. His breathing was slowing down, as he placed his head on my chest. I closed my eyes, as the pain of the playoffs drifted away to the past and a certain coyote was the present.


End file.
